Ghostly Vibrations

  Ghostly Vibrations

  By Maya Anders

  Published by JMS Books LLC

  Visit jms-books.com for more information.

  Copyright 2015 Maya Anders

  ISBN 9781611528640

  Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

  Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

  All rights reserved.

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

  * * * *

  Ghostly Vibrations

  By Maya Anders

  There was a light covering of snow on the gravel parking lot of the big old mansion. Roxy eased her car carefully into a narrow space between a large black SUV and a small red convertible. Stepping out, her ears were assailed by the thumping music and raucous laughter of the wild party underway inside. The light from the impressive gothic windows cast flickering shadows over the parking lot.

  Roxy looked around for the footpath she’d been told about. As she did so, three tall, fashionably dressed young men piled out of the SUV. All three of them gawped in her direction. To be more specific, they gawped in the direction of her bosom.

  She was used to having men stare at her breasts. They were worth staring at, their prodigious size accentuated by her athletically petite figure. Roxy, however, was not interested in men.

  “Get a load of that,” one of the guys said.

  “Small but perfectly formed,” another added.

  They looked and sounded like Ivy League students. From what she’d heard about Hamilton Drake’s social circle, they probably were Ivy League students. Roxy herself was a State University student.

  The third man was eying her thoughtfully. “Hamilton said he was going to bring in some high-class hookers this year. Guess that’s what this one is.”

  Roxy could understand the guy’s mistake. She had always been a sexy dresser. That evening she was wearing a tight black dress with a low neckline and high hemline, which showed off both her large, round breasts and her tiny, round butt. Her short but well-toned legs were clad in black fishnet pantyhose. Her only concession to the cold weather was a pair of heavy-soled, knee-high gothic boots.

  “How about it, gorgeous?” The first man took a step toward her. “Want to make some New Year fireworks?”

  “No, thank you.” Roxy stood her ground, smiling sweetly. “I’m not that sort of girl.”

  “Of course you are. You must be, if you’re coming to one of Hamilton Drake’s New Year parties.” He took another step forward. “Ouch!”

  “Oops, sorry. I accidentally stomped on your foot.” Roxy looked up at him innocently. “I’m not going to the New Year’s party, anyway. I’m on my way to the church.”

  “Okay pumpkin, let’s cut the wisecracks.” The man reached out and yanked at the neckline of her dress. “Hey, guess what guys? The little floozie isn’t wearing a bra. Her tits must be naturally…Oof!”

  Roxy brought her fishnet-clad knee up into the guy’s crotch, then skipped back as he doubled up in pain. Her long blonde hair flying out behind her, she planted the full force of her heavily booted foot on his jaw.

  “I work out a lot,” she informed him as he lay writhing on the snow-covered ground. “That’s why my tits are such a naturally perfect shape, as you just observed. Oh, and I’ve got a black belt in karate.”

  This last comment was addressed to another of the men, when he lashed out at her face with his fist. She grabbed his wrist easily, then twisted it round in an arm lock, forcing him to turn his back to her. The target was irresistible. She kicked him in the butt.

  By this time the first guy had picked himself up off the ground and was hobbling toward the brightly-lit mansion. His two associates quickly saw the wisdom of his action and followed suit.

  As she dusted herself off, Roxy surveyed the damage to her appearance. Her carefully arranged hair was now carelessly disarranged. She had no doubt that her laboriously applied make-up was smeared, too. Her pantyhose were torn and there was a large rip in the already plunging neckline of her dress, exposing the pale pink areola of her left breast. She frowned briefly…then the frown turned to a grin as she realized she quite liked the effect. Roxy Silverstein was one sexy little hellcat, if she said so herself.

  She located the path to the church and started to make her way along it. Before long, she saw the pinnacled building looming in the darkness ahead of her. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t a church—it was the family chapel of the Drake estate. It was as large as a church, though, and built in the same gloomy neo-gothic style as the mansion itself. The chapel was set in the center of an old burial ground. With the glare of the house now hidden by trees, Roxy had to weave her way through the gravestones by the pale light of the just-risen moon. She glanced at the watch on her wrist, pressing the button to illuminate the dial. It was ten P.M.—she was right on time.

  * * * *

  Half a dozen people were already gathered inside the chapel. Roxy looked around expectantly, then her face fell when she saw there were no other single females. A middle-aged couple stood talking to each other in front of the altar: a large woman and a thin, bearded man. Standing to one side was a tall, powerfully built man of forty-something. He was dressed in a spotless white suit, and had the hint of an arrogant sneer on his face. Sitting in the wooden pews was a heavily made-up teenage goth couple. Roxy wasn’t sure if it was two effeminate boys, an effeminate boy and an androgynous girl, or two androgynous girls. Finally there was a geeky-looking man in his late twenties, tinkering with an impressive array of electronic equipment. Despite her disheveled appearance, no-one gave Roxy a second glance.

  The large woman clapped her hands for attention. “Okay, I think most of us are here now. I know it’s New Year’s Eve, but don’t forget this is a solemn vigil, not a party. It’s now sixteen years to the night since Veronica Parker met her strange and untimely death. On several occasions since then, her ghost has been seen to haunt this chapel. If we keep a quiet watch we may…”

  At this point the door burst open and another woman entered. This one was tall, slim, and striking-looking, with short dark hair and metal-rimmed glasses. Most eye-catching of all, she was dressed neck-to-toe in a tight-fitting black leather cat suit. The woman looked distinctly flustered, darting her eyes about wildly.

  The large woman addressed the newcomer. “Ah, Eris—I’m so glad you could make it.”

  Eris! With a start, Roxy realized the tall, dark-haired woman must be the famous psychic detective, Eris King. She was a stunning sight—if a little crazy looking.

  Eris was clearly anxious about something. Her gaze roamed around the chapel, staring at each of the occupants one by one. Finally her gaze settled on Roxy, and her eyes widened. She raised her hand to her glasses and tipped them down on her nose, staring over the top of them straight into Roxy�
��s eyes. Roxy, who had always had a thing about tall, slim women with short dark hair, stared straight back. Eris nodded faintly, pushed her glasses back up on her nose, and relaxed visibly.

  The large woman was still talking. “…and we’re very grateful to Hamilton Drake for allowing us to use the chapel tonight. He was, of course, the host of the New Year’s party at which Veronica Parker died. I’ve asked him to say a few words about that fateful night.”

  The tall man in the white suit stepped forward. He still had the faint trace of a sneer on his face. “There really isn’t that much to tell. It was the big millennium party at the end of 1999. I’d just inherited the house following the death of my father. Veronica Parker was one of the guests, although I don’t remember her very clearly. She came from another wealthy New England family, and was just past her nineteenth birthday. No-one knows exactly what happened, but she must have overdone the celebrations. She was found dead the next morning, lying naked in the churchyard out there. The autopsy evidence was inconclusive, and the inquest returned a verdict of accidental death. There’s absolutely no reason to believe otherwise. There were no other footprints in the snow around the spot where she was found.”

  “How tragic, to die at such an early age,” the woman observed. “As for the ghost—have you ever witnessed it yourself?”

  “Of course not!” The famous millionaire playboy snorted with disgust. “There is no such thing as a ghost—just people with overactive imaginations. But each to their own, as they say. You’re welcome to play ghostbusters while my guests and I party the night away next door.”

  * * * *

  As soon as the introductory briefing was over, Roxy was pleased but not too surprised to see Eris making a beeline in her direction.

  “I think I can use you.” Eris stared down at her with an eager look on her face. “Quick, let me see your hands.”

  “What?”

  Without bothering to repeat the request, Eris grabbed Roxy’s right hand and examined it carefully. “Hmm…nice long fingers, very dexterous-looking—do you play the piano?”

  “No, I…”

  “Or do crochet?”

  “No, but…”

  “Never mind. Stick out your tongue.”

  Resigned to the fact that she was talking to a lunatic, Roxy stuck out the tip of her tongue in the most ladylike way she could manage.

  “It’s not very long, is it?” Eris frowned. “Can’t you stick it out any further?”

  “You mean all the way?” Roxy had always been embarrassed by the length of her tongue.

  “All the way, yes.”

  Roxy’s tongue protruded to its full, unexpurgated length.

  “Can you touch your nose with it?”

  “Eathy.” She curled her tongue up until it touched the tip of her pointed little nose.

  Eris breathed a sigh of relief. “Excellent—you’ll do perfectly! Who are you, by the way?”

  “My name’s Roxy Silverstein. I’m a student of, ah, psychology.” She mumbled the last word.

  “A student of what? Psychology, did you say?”

  “Well, parapsychology, if you must know. Telepathy and that sort of thing. But it’s all very scientific.”

  “I’m sure it is.” Eris nodded vigorously. “I’m a psychic detective, you know. But I can’t do it without an assistant, and my last assistant just did a runner. She left me a note this morning saying she had to go back to Europe.”

  Roxy looked puzzled. “An assistant? I thought psychic detectives always worked alone. Like you have to tune in and pick up the etheric vibrations, or something.”

  “Yes, that’s right. But I’m what they call an ecstatic visionary. The only time I can pick up etheric vibrations is at the height of orgasm. That’s why I need an assistant, you see—I can’t concentrate on two things at once.”

  “I see.” Roxy did see, too. She saw how a long tongue and dexterous fingers might be important prerequisites for this particular job. She also saw that Eris King was as nutty as a fruitcake. Nevertheless, it sounded like fun. “Okay, you’ve got yourself an assistant.”

  But Eris wasn’t listening. Her eyes were darting around the chapel again. “Shhh…we need privacy. I haven’t told you the whole story yet.”

  The leather-clad brunette grabbed Roxy and ushered her over to a confessional. Before she knew what was happening, Roxy found herself sitting in the sinner’s seat. A second later the screen opened and she saw Eris on the other side of the grille, sitting in the priest’s place.

  “I’ve been reading all about the Veronica Parker case,” Eris whispered. “It’s a lot more suspicious than Drake made out. What he said about footprints in the snow, he didn’t mention that there weren’t any footprints at all—not even Veronica’s.”

  “So?” Roxy shrugged. “They must have been covered with fresh snow before the body was found.”

  “No—I checked the weather records. There was no snowfall here the whole of New Year’s Eve and the following day. Something was covered up all right, but it wasn’t footprints—it was the truth. I think Drake’s behind the cover-up, with all that money of his. He may even be responsible for the murder.”

  “Murder?” Roxy felt a thrill of excitement.

  “Of course. Why else would a perfectly healthy teenager be found dead in a graveyard, without a stitch of clothing on? There’s no other logical explanation.”

  “Okay, you’ve got me there,” Roxy conceded. “So where do we start, Nancy Drew?”

  “I need to pick up some vibrations,” Eris said eagerly. “This place must be full of them. That’s why people keep thinking they see the ghost.”

  “Vibrations, right.” Roxy could see where this was leading. “For which you need to…I mean I need to…that is, you need me to, um…”

  “Yes, exactly! But it might get noisy. It usually does. So we can’t do it in here—we need to find somewhere we won’t be overheard. That’s one of the hazards of my profession.”

  “I can imagine,” Roxy said. “How about the crypt of this chapel?”

  “Excellent idea. Let’s go.”

  They left the confessional and found the stairs leading down to the crypt. They tiptoed down.

  “Ah, good—just as I was wishing I had an extra pair of hands.” The weedy looking man was in the crypt, busily setting up his electronic equipment. “My name’s Kelvin, by the way—pleased to meet you. Now, the red sensors are heat-seekers and the blue ones are for the electromagnetic field. You probably knew that already—it’s all standard ghost-hunting kit. We just need to…wait, where are you going?”

  Roxy and Eris made their way hurriedly back up the stairs.

  “There’s only one option left,” Eris said breathlessly. “We’ll have to go out into the graveyard. Probably a good idea anyway—after all, that’s where the body was found.”

  Roxy grinned. “Great—I always wanted to make love in a graveyard.”

  Eris glared at her. “Love has nothing to do it—this is serious psychic detective work.”

  Roxy straightened her face with an effort. “Of course it is. Anyway, I wouldn’t dream of being in love with you. You’re a raving lunatic.”

  Eris tipped her glasses down and looked at her. “Do you always dress like that, by the way?”

  Roxy glanced down at her torn dress and partially exposed nipple. “Yes,” she said.

  * * * *

  The snow-covered graveyard looked eerie in the light of the half-full moon. Having no idea what to expect, Roxy traipsed behind Eris as she wandered among the graves, seemingly in deep concentration.

  “It was near here…where the body was found. I can feel it.” Eris abruptly turned round, grabbed Roxy with both hands and pulled her roughly toward her. She planted her mouth on her lips and kissed them passionately. Dropping her hands to Roxy’s small, firm butt, she slid them under the tight fabric of her skirt. As Eris began to squeeze and fondle her buttocks, Roxy felt the slender woman’s crotch pushing urgently against her
own.

  “Mmmff…” Roxy managed to pull herself away long enough to catch her breath. “Are you, um, picking up any ghostly vibrations yet?”

  “I haven’t even started.” Eris stood back for a second, sliding the zipper of her cat suit from its modest position at her neck to a much less modest position just below her navel. “Lie down.”

  Roxy felt herself being coerced into a horizontal position on top of one of the snow-covered graves. “Ow, it’s cold!” Thanks to Eris’s attentions, her skirt had been pushed up to her waist, and she was wearing crotchless pantyhose with no underwear.

  “I can see I’m going to have to warm you up before we get down to business.” Eris lowered herself to her knees, straddling Roxy’s supine form. As she leaned forward her cat suit slid wider open, exposing the small mounds of her breasts. Roxy eyed them hungrily—they were the kind she liked best, with tight little areolas and long, stiff, chewable-looking nipples. Roxy’s own breasts, to her annoyance, had large, pale saucer-like areolas and almost flat nipples.

  Eris grabbed the already torn neckline of Roxy’s dress and ripped it open completely. “Christ, you’ve got sexy nipples! Puffy and pink and smooth—just the kind I like best.” She grabbed Roxy’s breasts with both hands and began to fondle them enthusiastically. She squeezed and kneaded them, pulling them this way and that. She pressed them tightly together, held them for several seconds, then let them fall back to Roxy’s chest. Even when she was lying on her back, her breasts retained their firm, almost hemispherical shape. Eris began slapping them lightly with her hands, watching them jiggle briefly each time before returning to their natural position.

  Roxy moaned with pleasure. “Ooh, yes! That’s so hot! I can feel the snow melting under my butt.”

  “Good—then it’s time to get down to some serious psychic detective work.” Eris raised herself up onto her knees and felt for the zipper of her cat suit. For a second Roxy thought she was going to close the zipper up, then she realized it was capable of opening still further. Eris slid the zipper all the way down to her perineum.